


i've got a frail state of mind

by bensolosredemption



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23138143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bensolosredemption/pseuds/bensolosredemption
Summary: When he greets her in the morning and offers her the caffeinated beverage with a nervous uncertainty in his voice, she shows nothing but child-like excitement. Her innocence infectious, so pure and angelic that it makes Ben wonder why he ever worried about silly, minuscule things.It briefly makes him forget about his lonely life, and bare apartment that scream emptiness and emotional unavailability.Their fingers graze one another’s as she takes the cup, and Ben feels like he’s been set on fire.He wants to be set aflame again and again.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 17
Kudos: 97
Collections: Reylo Charity Anthology: Volume 2





	i've got a frail state of mind

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I was so honored to be a part of such a great cause and create this work for the Reylo Charity Anthology. I tried my best to tackle something emotionally difficult without getting too heavy because I think we all need a bit of positivity especially now. 
> 
> For people who are wary of reading this because it's tagged with a major character death, it's about Leia, as this story is meant to be Ben trying to work through his grief. So, just a heads up for anyone who might find those themes triggering. 
> 
> Thank you to anyone who gives this a read, kudos, comment, and everything in between! :)

When Ben found out his mother died, he didn’t cry. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t ponder why. He just felt numb, no feeling left in his body to even react. He saved his heart-wrenching sobs for when he was finally alone in his apartment, able to process that he was, indeed, without his tenacious, outspoken, caring mother. 

It had been nearly three years since Han had been gone, as if Leia couldn’t wait at least a decade to be with her estranged husband once again. Their relationship was contentious. Ben rarely remembered a time where the pair weren’t arguing, mostly about Han’s absence. He was always away, traveling to some far-off part of the country, taking on whatever shady job that brought him a short-lived adrenaline rush. He claimed it was “construction work”— _“Building stuff for those corporate assholes. You know the type,”_ he’d grumble as he packed up his essentials and left their Upstate New York home once again. Ben watched as his mother would crumble, worried sick over his well-being, but also furious over his unintentional selfishness. 

When Han passed, it was to be expected. The life he led basked in careless choices and danger running amok. He had a stroke, quick and mostly painless. He laid in a hospital bed for weeks afterward, never improving or waking from his heavily sedated state. It was hard to watch, a breathing tube shoved down his throat, keeping him afloat, alive but barely there. Ben never imagined his father that way—he saw Han as untouchable, unafraid of the unknown. So, when the time came to unhook the ventilator, Ben shamefully felt relieved. 

He hated to see his mother in pain. He saw it plenty enough when he drove her to the hospital almost every morning, then later when he’d drive her back, as her body wracked with sobs, every emotion infiltrating the small space of his Impala. Ben would just listen, hands tightening around the steering wheel, knowing any piece of comfort he’d offer wouldn’t make it better. It would only reaffirm everything they already knew—Han was gone, and he was never coming back. 

Ben wanted to be mad at his mother for not sticking it out, leaving him alone to deal with the aftermath of two dead parents. But somehow, he understood. She thrived off her independence—Leia was fierce and wasn’t one to be bossed around. Most of the time, she was the one doing the bossing. As her health gradually deteriorated, she became disgusted with how people waited on her hand and foot, treating her every ailment as weakness. It hurt her more than dying, Ben knew that. 

When the time came to let her go, Ben liked to think it was her idea of a big reunion with his father, one that was doused in arguments ending in I love you’s and I know’s.

But now, as he walks back into work, making his way to his cubicle after a month-long affair of funeral arrangements, hospital bills, and sorting through his mother belongings, he wants nothing more than to walk right back out. He doesn’t want to hear the empty condolences or feigned attempts at sympathy. 

Ben knows he’s not the most popular employee, often conveniently forgotten when it comes to his colleagues’ extended invitations for a drink after work. Their so-called “compassion” isn’t needed, he knows it isn’t genuine. It’s just the “right” thing to do, to help them meet their daily quota of good deeds. But it’s okay, he understands he’s not the most welcoming person when it comes to making new acquaintances or engaging in small talk. He’d rather keep to himself, stay in his lane, do his work, and return home to his empty apartment where the silence can swallow him whole. 

He’s not even in his office chair before the artificial pity is thrown his way. 

“Hey, Ben. I heard the news. I’m so sorry, man,” Poe Dameron offers as he pats Ben’s shoulder awkwardly. It’s passable, his attempt to bring Ben some sort of comfort. But really, he’d rather Poe never touch him again, especially if it’s meant to bring solace over his dead mother. 

“Thanks,” Ben begrudgingly responds. 

Poe offers a small smile, hesitation evident in his demeanor. After what feels like hours, he lets his hand fall from Ben’s shoulder and heads back to his own cubicle.

With a sigh, Ben takes a seat in front of his desk, examines any small changes made to his little nook and immediately regrets it. A picture of him and his mother takes residence beside his computer monitor. It’s from the barbecue she held at his childhood home last summer—his arm wrapped around her small shoulders, Leia beaming up at him as he shoots a reluctant grin towards the camera. Ben internally berates himself—why can’t he remember this exact moment? What was his mother laughing at? And what had him looking so smug? He’d give anything to relive that memory, tuck it away and keep it in his pocket, so when the next year rolled around, his mother’s passing wouldn’t come with so many moments he wished he’d treasured.

The urge to lay the frame face down is tempting, but how cold will that seem to anyone who happens to walk by? The gossip around the office would ensue—“He’s a prickly son of a bitch, no surprise that he hates his mother.” 

Ben shakes his head, probably more for himself than for any nosy passersby, actively avoids laying the picture frame down, and begins to open the hundreds of emails he unfortunately has. 

* * *

“Shit…” He hears her grumble before he even enters the breakroom. The soft, lilting British accent Ben’s had memorized since her first day on the job. 

She doesn’t notice him at first when he comes in, her back facing him as she slaps the side of the new Keurig coffee maker Gwen bought for the office as if that will suddenly make it spew out caffeine. 

Gwen believed it would be a good incentive for her employees—“Make this month in sales and I’ll buy you all a new coffee machine.” Too bad the thing only decided to function when it wanted to. Ben just sticks to his own coffee, made at home without the stress of being walked in on by his coworkers as he curses the new morale-booster Keurig.

Just like Rey is right now. 

He almost wants to turn around and come back later, eat his turkey sandwich without the lingering presence of Rey in the background. She’s very distracting, Ben has realized. Ever since her arrival nearly a year ago, she’s measled her way into everyone’s hearts, something Ben finds almost impossible to accomplish. She even makes Hux smile and that’s an insurmountable feat. He can’t tell if it’s good or bad, the way she charms everyone, even Ben.

He won’t fully admit it, that her warmth is like sunshine and her smile is like seeing stars—if he does, that would be his downfall. 

When Ben finally decides to sidle up next to her, opening up the refrigerator to retrieve his lunch, Rey jumps slightly, not expecting the sudden company.

“Oh! Hi, Ben,” she greets him, a toothy smile shot his way. Ben tries to ignore the swoop in his belly—what kind of man gets butterflies over a woman? _Certainly_ not him. 

He mutters back a response, and musters up some semblance of a grin, trying to let her know he doesn’t dislike her. It’s something he’s trying to work on, being polite. His mother often hounded him on his lack of social skills— _"Get that scowl off your face, you look like someone just kicked your puppy!”_ He figures it’s the least he could do now that she’s gone. Maybe her metaphorical ghost will stop pinching his cheeks into a forced grin, just like she did when he was a grumpy teenager. 

It seems to work because Rey doesn’t look put off, not terrified of the concept of broody Ben Solo actually smiling. 

She turns back to the coffee maker as if her glare will magically make it work. “Tell me again why Gwen bought this dumb thing,” she finally says. Ben huffs out a laugh as Rey continues her caffeine-deprived rant.

“I mean, seriously. She buys this to bribe us and the bloody thing doesn’t even work! I worked my ass off just so we could get decent coffee around here and it was all for nothing. Might as well go to Starbucks and buy an overpriced latte. Not a big fan of them though, I’d rather stick to—” 

She abruptly stops, realizing she’s practically shouting, most likely driven by her lack of sleep and coherency. Her cheeks redden slightly, embarrassed by her outburst. Ben wants to cool her down, let her keep going and vent all her irritations. He’d listen to her fiery accent utter anything—she could recite the nutrition labels on every snack in the break room and he’d hang onto every single word. 

“Sorry. I… I need my caffeine. Haven’t had any yet today. I tend to get a bit… I get really irritable,” Rey admits bashfully, eyes downcast, sparing tiny glances his way, gauging his reaction. “Didn’t mean to, like, yell in your face.”

“It’s okay,” Ben reassures her, no trace of falsity in his response. “We all need our caffeine.”

“Yeah, we do,” she agrees matter-of-factly. 

Ben wishes he could keep the conversation going, interest her enough that she’d want to get to know him. But unfortunately, Ben’s interpersonal skills aren’t the best—that includes his ability to woo women. The last girlfriend he had was in college, a two-year relationship that ended in miscommunication and one-sided intimacy. Ben always had problems opening up, too afraid of weakness, constantly putting up a front of invincibility—at least that’s what his ex-girlfriend shouted at him in a heated argument. Since then, he’s avoided potential partners like the plague, because who wants to date a stony-faced brooder unable to be vulnerable? That was merely Ben’s inner monologue lecturing him, attempting to break him down as he stared at this beautiful woman in front of him, probably creeping her out, and kickstarting her complaint to HR. 

“I like that tie. Is it new?” Her random compliment-question brought him out of his self-deprecating thoughts.

“Hm?” Ben responds, ever the intellectual. 

“Your tie… is it new? I’ve never seen you wear it before,” she quickly realizes what she’s admitted, her cheeks pinken once more. 

It isn’t anything special, a silk gray with white pinstripes. Uncle Luke got it for him one strained Christmas morning as an attempt to make amends. Ben accepted it reluctantly, knowing his mother was watching the exchange with rapt attention. For the longest time, the tie sat in the back of his closet, much like most of Ben’s emotions, packed away and sometimes forgotten.

“Oh, uh… no, I’ve had it for a while. Just haven’t worn it before,” he adjusts his tie as he answers her, hoping it isn’t wrinkled or knotted unevenly. He didn’t really check before he left his apartment this morning. His appearance hasn’t been the biggest priority on his list lately. 

“Oh. Well… it’s nice,” she clears her throat, looking away, avoiding his gaze. Ben can’t help his racing heartbeat. A cute girl compliments him and he loses all sanity—he wants to slap himself. 

But not only that, she notices him enough to know he’s never worn a certain piece of clothing. The thoughts circling through his brain are bound to sabotage this potential exchange so he tries his hardest to quiet them. 

Rey is nice, kind, and attentive, always looking out for each employee like they’re her closest friends. She once brought in a whole tray of cookies for the office, considering everyone’s possible food allergies—gluten-free, nut-free, dairy-free. Ben couldn’t care less, the effort of taking into account every person’s problem too stressful for him. 

So, really, her observant comment about his tie isn’t out of the ordinary. _No need to make it into something it isn’t_ , Ben reminds himself. 

“Thank you. My uncle got it for me,” he willingly reveals to her. Why, Ben has no idea.

She smiles, comfort eventually taking over. Her face no longer slightly pink, embarrassment gone. 

“Well, guess this was a bust,” she sighs, gesturing to the Keurig, and hesitantly turns towards the doorway. 

Ben laughs a little, not knowing what else to say. His Lothario skills are nonexistent. Any other guy would offer to buy her coffee, some overpriced, fancy drink from that expensive joint down the block. Not Starbucks since she expressed her distaste for them earlier. But he doesn’t, because he’s him, and he’s stupid like that. 

“Enjoy your lunch, Ben,” she tells him before heading out of the breakroom, a small, warm smile is directed his way that leaves him dumbstruck. Before he can respond, offer some kind of thanks like a normal person, she’s gone, and back to her measly cubicle. 

This is how most of their interactions go—Rey initiates and Ben stumbles his way through. But it never seems to deter her, she still greets him cheerily, asks him about his day, compliments his suggestions during office meetings. With his month-long absence for reasons everyone seems to know about, he worried all these exchanges would be induced by pity. 

But Rey isn’t like that, Ben realizes. 

He dreaded his first day back, not wanting to discuss the details of a depressing funeral, dealing with his mother’s belongings, and the never-ending hospital bills. He’s already dealt with a few strained conversations, noticing the remorse in his colleagues’ eyes. It made Ben feel sick to his stomach.

He wishes Rey was back in the breakroom yelling about her lack of caffeine or complimenting his tie—it was the most normal he felt in the past month. 

Ben not-so-randomly decides he just might wear this tie again. 

* * *

The next day, Ben decides to stop by the local coffee shop on his way to work. He picks up two drinks, a black coffee for him and some overly-sweet concoction for Rey. Why he does this, Ben isn’t sure. He tells himself it’s because he wants to make up for her disappointment and slight outburst due to the office’s inadequate coffee supply. 

It’s something a caring co-worker would do for another caring co-worker. It’s definitely not because he wants to make her smile. That genuine, delighted smile that leaves him feeling pleasantly warm from head to toe. 

So when he greets her in the morning and offers her the caffeinated beverage with a nervous uncertainty in his voice, she shows nothing but child-like excitement. Her innocence infectious, so pure and angelic that it makes Ben wonder why he ever worried about silly, minuscule things. 

It briefly makes him forget about his lonely life, and bare apartment that scream emptiness and emotional unavailability.

Their fingers graze one another’s as she takes the cup, and Ben feels like he’s been set on fire. 

He wants to be set aflame again and again. 

* * *

A week later, Ben leads a sales meeting and pitches a potential new project, one that will help gain them a bit more traction with future clients. 

All eyes are on him, but he only notices Rey’s attentive stare. She nods at all the right parts, and asks curious questions that aren’t meant to poke fun. 

She genuinely cares. 

Ben tries his best to maintain his cool, but his clammy palms and occasional stutter suggest otherwise. 

Rey only smiles. 

* * *

Shortly after the meeting, Ben quietly eats his lunch in the breakroom. His ham and swiss sandwich isn’t entirely bland—he splurged a bit and gave it a dash of mustard and lettuce to add a tidbit of flavor. He tries to spice it up every once and awhile, his mother’s voice nagging in the back of his head that he can’t eat takeout every day. He begrudgingly agrees with her despite her absence. 

Before he can take a third bite, Rey and Poe enter the room. She’s laughing at something he said, probably some smooth anecdote that Ben is unable to come up with himself. He finds Dameron to be slightly irritating, always more concerned about the after-work get-togethers, and office gossip than actually doing his job. 

And, he makes Rey laugh, a bright, devastatingly addicting laugh that could bring any man to his knees. 

Yeah, he’s _definitely_ on Ben’s shit list. 

“Hey, Ben,” Rey greets him, something she does more often than not lately, eyes sparkling, dimples prominent. Ben’s stomach flutters, a detail he desperately doesn’t want to confront. It happens quite frequently whenever she’s around, her gradual acquaintanceship with him becoming the highlight of his day. 

He answers her with an easy grin, an action that’s become increasingly effortless due to her. She grabs her food from the fridge—a Tupperware container full of mixed greens and the usual salad fixings. Leia would _definitely_ approve, Ben preens.

“Hey, Solo. Good pitch today. I think it could really work,” Poe interrupts, pulling Ben out of his Rey-reverie. 

“I agree,” Rey adds, and Ben decides her criticism is the only one that matters, even though Dameron offered his to the same degree. 

Poe retrieves his notorious protein shake from the refrigerator, earning a disgusted look from Rey. Ben might love her even more than he thought.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it. When I’m 80-years-old and running five miles a day, you’ll wish you drank this every day,” Poe retorts, as if his vomit-green drink is something to be envious of. 

“No, thanks. Think I’m good,” Rey rolls her eyes, directing a playful look in Ben’s direction, almost as if to say, _"Can you believe this guy?"_

“Well, enjoy your lunch, kids. I have to make a phone call,” Poe says, swiftly walking out the door to make his mysterious call that required an announcement. It’s probably for the countless individuals he woos on the weekend—men and women, Poe doesn’t discriminate. Before Ben can go down a rabbit hole of cursing Poe Dameron and his Casanova ways—secretly wishing he could borrow them just to speak to his brilliant colleague standing right in front of him—Rey breaks the silence.

“Can I sit with you?” Her smile is almost unsure, like he’s bound to reject her, and why should she think any different? Ben’s reputation around the office isn’t squeaky clean—her impression of him can’t be much better.

“S-sure,” he manages to get out.

She promptly takes a seat, dazzling smile returning, and his heart skips. This won’t be good. 

“Ooh, what do you have?” She eyes his homemade sandwich like they’re two classmates in elementary, comparing lunches and trading snacks. 

“Just… a sandwich.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further, probably sounding like an antisocial jerk. He wants nothing more than to talk to her, get to know her, and learn her favorite color or something so inconsequential that Ben would take pride in knowing it. 

But he physically can’t. He _is_ an antisocial jerk, the broody asshole that only cares about himself. At least that’s what everyone tells him. 

She responds with a light hum, nodding her head as she pops the lid off her Tupperware container. 

They eat in a comfortable silence with the occasional question from Rey. She isn’t prying into his business, just merely making conversation, something not many people around the office seem to want when he shows up. 

He finds her presence warm, not overbearing, and surprisingly safe. Ben finds most people annoying, always wanting something in return rather than just being honest. 

But when it comes to Rey, he realizes she’s just genuinely good—a very difficult thing to find nowadays especially for someone like Ben. 

“Are you going Poe’s party on Saturday?” 

Ben almost doesn’t register her question, the look on his face most likely one of bewilderment. 

“Uh… Poe’s party?” 

“Yeah. He’s having one at his place on Saturday. He just moved in,” she takes a bite of her salad before continuing, mouth full of food, and somehow not at all unappealing. “It’s like a housewarming thing.”

He has some idea of what she’s referring to, has heard Poe brag about his newly-purchased home to Jen in accounting. As far as the party, his invitation has yet to be mentioned—and Ben can’t say he’s shocked. He isn’t particularly hurt, not into the fickleness of office cliques, but mostly, he’s just embarrassed. Embarrassed that he has to tell Rey, his newly-realized crush, that no, of course he’s not going—he probably isn’t even invited. Fuck, this feels like high school all over again. 

“No. Probably not,” he mumbles, eyeing his sandwich like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Why not?” The edge of concern is evident in her voice, and Ben dreads meeting her gaze.

“Don’t know. Not my thing,” he shrugs.

“What _is_ your thing?” With that question, Ben looks up. He’s met with a soft smirk, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. His heart pounds. 

“I’m boring. Sorry to disappoint,” he scoffs.

“I highly doubt that,” she quickly bites back, a knowing smile overtaking her sunshine-freckled face. Lips plush, pink, and begging to be touched, by his lips preferably. 

Ben almost physically shakes his head— _Get it together, pervert._

“Anyways… I think you should go. It’ll be fun, I promise,” she reassures him as she stands up, her tupperware container empty of her lunch. He’d been so enthralled by the mundane conversation that he didn’t realize she’d devoured her meal in less than ten minutes. He kind of wishes he’d savored it a bit more now as she goes to rinse out the container in the break room sink, then setting it on the drying rack with the other employees’ dishes. 

He’s certain that their extended interaction is over—she’s hit her daily goal of words exchanged with Ben Solo. But right as he begins to delve into every millisecond she spent sitting across from him at this very table, she stops at the doorway, turns towards him, and flashes that grin that has left him reeling since their first meeting. 

“Also, I’d really like you to go. It’d be nice to spend more time with you. You know, outside of work.” 

And with that, she walks out, leaving Ben breathless, and coming to terms with spending a Saturday night at Poe Dameron’s damned housewarming party. 

* * *

Ben doesn’t know why he decided to go through with this. 

He’s dangerously uncomfortable as he walks into Poe Dameron’s bungalow. It’s on the outskirts of the city, a good forty-five minute drive from Ben’s apartment, if he doesn’t factor in the traffic he encountered on the way here. 

The party started at seven, but Ben convinced himself to show up later, not wanting his enthusiasm over seeing Rey to be mistaken for actually wanting to be at this godforsaken party. 

It’s obvious the booze has been flowing for a good hour, faint upbeat music can be heard from the living room, raucous laughter booms from the kitchen. Ben doesn’t know where to look. He earns a few hello’s from fellow co-workers—there was Rose from advertising, then Paige from project management, and eventually Snap from sales. He offered a mere head nod their way, avoiding the inevitable remark that was bound to be thrown his way— _“Didn’t expect to see you here.”_

He isn’t here to make light conversation with Kaydel the receptionist—he just wants to see Rey. But despite her unwavering and blinding aura, she’s nowhere to be found. 

His strides bring him into the kitchen where most of the partygoers are congregating, desperate to fill up their glasses with alcohol. 

He searches the cluster of people for a familiar head of wavy chestnut-brown hair, but all efforts are squashed when Poe bounds into the room. 

“Solo! I didn’t know you were coming, man!” Ben is met with an excitable pat on the back, and Poe is suddenly at his side. Ben can tell he’s well on his way to plastered, eyes glassy, and breath smelling faintly alcohol. 

“Well. I did,” Ben responds matter-of-factly. Poe doesn’t seem to notice the curtness of his reply, and flashes a drunken smile his way. 

“Glad you did, man. We can never get you to come out with us.”

Ben wants to roll his eyes but is interrupted when a beer bottle is shoved his way.

“You need a drink. Get drunk,” Poe insists. He takes the bottle, and pops off the cap. He’ll do anything to get his mildly irritating colleague off his back. 

As Ben takes a sip, Poe drunkenly rattles on about the new sales lead, pointless chit-chat that he couldn’t care less about. He feigns interest all while subtly casting a glance over the room, searching for any sign of Rey. 

Ten minutes pass—for Ben, it feels like months—and he finally silences Poe, unable to listen to him slur another sentence. 

“Have you seen Rey?” He clears his throat, attempting to sound nonchalant, and not like a lovesick puppy. If Dameron is insulted their interaction was halted, he doesn’t show it because without missing a beat he answers.

“Yeah, she’s here. She was talking to Rose when I saw her. Probably in the living room.”

“Oh, okay,” Ben immediately shifts his gaze in that direction, hoping he doesn’t look hopelessly desperate. 

“She’s cute, right?”

“W-what?” He snaps his head back to Dameron, finding a smug smile plastered across his face. 

“Rey. She’s cute. That accent. And she has freckles. Can see why you—”

“Can see why I what?” 

“Nothing, Solo. Just making an observation,” Poe throws his hands up in mock surrender, but it doesn’t ease Ben’s nerves. 

Was he really _that_ obvious? And did Rey notice as well? Could she tell that he was practically falling at her feet whenever she was around, desperate to watch her pink mouth say his name, and hear her laugh over his sarcastic remarks?

He hopes not. 

Poe must sense Ben’s apprehension because he doesn’t push any further, eventually walking away to get another drink—at least that’s his excuse, but Ben believes it’s because of the awkward tension resonating from him. 

He begins picking at the paper on his beer bottle, avoiding eye contact with anyone that walks by. He had some semblance of a plan before he came here. He thought he’d find Rey, make comfortable conversation, she’d laugh a bit, and then he’d go home—usually, that’s how it works for him. He wishes he could enjoy things like this, the mingling, small talk, and meeting new people. Maybe at this point in his life, he’d have more—a steady girlfriend, a tight-knit friend group.

He chalks it up to a life of loss, never allowing himself to want, with the fear of losing always so great. 

He almost has the paper wrapped around his beer ripped off when Jannah from HR gets his attention. 

“Hey, Ben. How are you?” It’s a loaded question, and immediately knows where this is headed, if her look of concern is enough to go by. 

“I’m okay. You?” He takes another swig from the bottle, wanting to steer this exchange in the opposite direction. 

“I’m alright,” her gaze lingers on his face before continuing, then offers that signature phrase he’s so tired of hearing. “I just wanted to say… I’m so sorry about your mom. She seemed like a great woman.”

Ben holds back a deep sigh, the empty void inside him making itself known. He’s able to ignore it for days at a time, floating through each moment like something traumatic and life-altering didn’t just happen a mere month ago. 

He can only nod his head, then makes an excuse that he has to use the restroom, Jannah’s face only offering even more worry. Ben can’t take any more fake pity. 

He stalks off, ridding his beer bottle somewhere along the way. Poe certainly won’t notice a half-empty drink on his end table, he’s too enamored with trying to entertain his tipsy guests to care. 

At this point, Ben’s only partially forgotten about finding Rey. Right now, he wants to get out of here, away from the suffocating, stingy air of this crowded house, surrounded by people who act like they care, but really, could never understand. Do they know what it’s like to have the rug pulled from underneath you, left to pick up the pieces and figure out a life he hadn’t even quite lived yet without the help of anyone? And now, his mother was gone, forever. She wasn’t a phone call away, a reassuring voice on the other line, telling him that his impending breakdown didn’t have to defeat him. 

It all looms over him, following him like a dark cloud in the middle of this irritatingly loud party—he needed to get away. 

He finally finds a sliding glass door leading out to the backyard patio. There was no one outside, only the muffled sounds of the party could be heard from the steps. Ben takes a seat, hoping no one walks out to find him sulking in the dark. He just needs time to breathe, to forget. 

The stars lit up the night sky, shining brighter outside of the city, no blinding lights to drown them out. He’s wanted to move away from the hustle and bustle for a while, hating the stifling air, and need to always be moving. He’s found recently that he wants to stay still, slow down, and figure his shit out. It’s what his mother would want.

The slide of the back door and a soft, lilting voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Hey, you.” Rey sits down next to him, her hazel eyes crinkling with warm familiarity. Ben suddenly feels calm, calmer than he has all night. “Been looking for you. Jannah said she saw you come out here.”

 _She’s been looking for me... Just like I’ve been looking for her_ , his chaotic mind shouts at him. 

_You’re pathetic_ , his rational mind corrects him. 

“Uh, yeah. Just needed some air.” He doesn’t elaborate any further. She doesn’t want to hear the truth, how he couldn’t stand being here any longer, suffocated by pretend remorse, and the sudden onslaught of missing his mother. 

The truth is, no one wants to hear about the emptiness, the void that can’t be filled, the rollercoaster of grief that runs you ragged—so he keeps it to himself. 

“You don’t really like these things, do you?” A hint of a smile is etched on her face.

“No, not really.” Ben huffs a laugh. 

She just responds with a soft expression, no judgement crossing her face, only a warm comfort that Ben wants to wrap himself in. They sit in soothing silence until Rey finally pipes up.

“The stars are so beautiful out here.” Ben sneaks a glance at her—she’s dreamily staring up at the sky, seeking out any unique constellation she can find. 

He can’t quite understand why she’s out here, talking to him when she could be inside, charming everyone like she always does. 

For some reason, as he takes in her slightly tanned skin, freckles dancing across the exposed skin of her shoulder peeking out of her sweater, Ben wants to tell her everything. Words tumble out of him before he can stop himself. 

“When I was younger, my mom… She used to tell me that when people die, they become stars. She kept up that story forever,” Ben laughs under his breath, but that doesn’t stop the tears stinging behind his eyes. “Even after my dad died, she was very adamant that he was the brightest one up there,” he sniffs, the mortification of crying in front of Rey taking over. 

The silence that follows is deafening, and he can’t bear it. 

“I don’t know why I told you that,” he quickly says, so quiet that he can barely hear it himself. Hot humiliation creeps over him, his skin reddening from the shame. She probably thinks he’s pathetic, some weakling unable to handle sadness, loneliness, or any other grief-stricken emotion. He’s just some fool that feels sorry for himself, and doesn’t deserve the company of a pretty girl—he’ll just ruin it with his overbearing personality. 

“I’m glad you did, though.” Ben’s breath hitches, looking over at Rey beside him. She’s completely open with her kind smile, wisps of hair blowing in the cool evening wind—and Ben, he wants nothing more than to kiss her silly. 

Suddenly, her hand finds his, fingers intertwining, lying atop his thigh. She’s slightly turned her body towards his, her knees pressing into the side of his calf. There’s no doubt she can feel his clammy palms and hear his hammering heart. 

He doesn’t know what prompts him to keep opening his big, dumb mouth. Perhaps he’ll blame it on the way she’s faintly rubbing her thumb against his knuckles, goosebumps prickling his skin. 

“I don’t know what it is about you. I just want to tell you everything.”

“You can, if you want. I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” Ben feels relief wash over him. The realization that this girl—no, this perfect, tender, loving woman—wants to listen to him, even if it’s about his absolute hellscape of a life, makes him want to spill every last detail. Delve into why he can longer make sense of things—because he knows she’ll help him piece it all together. 

“I wasn’t the best son. I was… very temperamental. Bad temper, you know, normal teenage shit. But then I got older. I was still so fucking—I don’t know. Just fucking difficult.” He can hear his voice crack, hands slightly trembling. Rey only squeezes them tighter, reminding him she’s there, anchoring him close to shore. 

“But I got older and was still so fucking stubborn. Not until my dad died did I realize I should just… I don’t know, get the hell over it.” Tears are starting to fall, his vision getting blurry. “I just hope it was enough for her and not too late. For her—for my mom.”

With that final confession, Rey gently takes his face in her hands, caressing his cheeks, wiping any stray tears that dare fall from his eyes. 

“Ben, you _are_ a good person. I see it, I know it. Your heart—you have such a good heart,” she soothes him, eyes roaming over his face—and did she just sneak a glance at his lips? He’s probably just imagining things. “Your mother... She’d be _so_ proud of you. She already was. Still is.” The smile she gives him knocks the air out of his lungs. 

He hides his face against her neck, tear-stained cheeks dampening the skin of her throat, but Ben can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. The flowery scent of her perfume and her nimble fingers lightly raking through his hair intoxicates him. It’s more addicting than any drug he could ever take. 

A few moments pass until they finally pull away from their embrace—Ben would’ve stayed wrapped in her arms for hours if he could, but knows that could be viewed as a bit clingy, extreme, and perhaps even a little creepy. 

Ben backs away, but only enough so that he can lean his forehead against hers, noses bumping, and breath mingling with one another’s. If he pushes an inch forward, his lips would be on hers, fulfilling his year-long fantasy in the blink of an eye. 

Rey is ten steps ahead of him, her lips colliding with his. It isn’t sensual, nothing like in the romantic comedies Ben has become accustomed to watching to lift his spirits. But it’s somehow everything. It’s light, and airy, all-encompassing and blinding, just like Rey. 

She pulls back, but only for a brief moment, then her lips slot against his once more. Deeper this time and with more purpose, her tongue sliding against the entrance of his mouth, and Ben preens. He’s so warm, from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. His hands hold her face, fingertips dancing along her jawline while hers scratch the stubble forming on his. He could do this forever—soft touches on sun-kissed skin, quiet moans heard in the pale starlight, chaste kisses on pink lips. 

They kiss for what feels like days, until Ben finds the strength to pull away. They’re both breathing heavily, and he can’t stop staring at her flushed freckled cheeks and the swell of her mouth. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Ben says before he can stop himself.

Rey sweetly giggles like some angel sent down from heaven to bless him—and Ben wants, no, _needs_ to wrap her up and keep her with him forever. He is safe with her, secure and at home. Nothing has made more sense than her, her beauty, her softness, her complexity—he wants to bathe in it forever. 

Out of the corner of his eye, a star shoots across the sky. He catches it last minute, stunned by the timing of it. 

Rey must see it too because she tenderly asks the same question that he internally asked himself.

“Do you think that was your mum?”

He turns back to her, tears welling up once again, but this time they aren’t out of pain, or hurt, or suffering. They’re out of solace, certainty, and hopefulness—because he is here, with a woman who wants to know him, and not out of some feigned compassion, but out of genuine care and devotion. 

Ben was always told he felt too much, overly-emotional with a side of pent-up anger. His mother told him his heart was too big, so the only way to nurse it was to ignore his emotions, bottle everything up until he felt nothing. During his mother’s last months, he willed himself to feel it all because he knew when she finally moved on, there would be no drop of energy left. 

But as he holds Rey’s hands, fingers laced with hers, hearts beating in sync, he finds that he was entirely wrong. He feels so much, and he never wants it to stop.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it was,” Ben says, looking back up at the starry sky.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter @redeembensolo!


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